


Wanderer [Soon I Will Drown]

by darkotter



Series: A Series of Fragments and Nothing More [4]
Category: D.Gray-man
Genre: Angst, M/M, Pain
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-26
Updated: 2012-06-26
Packaged: 2017-11-08 14:25:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,125
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/444153
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/darkotter/pseuds/darkotter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In a purgatory time, Allen doesn't know what to do. He needs to walk. He needs to fight. He needs a purpose. Or else he will be swallowed by the sea and will be lost forever.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wanderer [Soon I Will Drown]

**Author's Note:**

> If you find it fit, I'd love a comment! I would like to know what worked well, what didn't work, and so on. Thank you and enjoy. ♥

There is only a whisper as my feet hit the cold stone floor of the hallway as I  _walk-wander-pace_ . It is barely noticeable, but in the grave-silent space, it sounds like thunder to my ears. It is a reminder that I am going  _no where_ . That I am stuck in this  _stagnant—stationary—listless_ place.

Even though my feet are moving, I am  _standing still_ . I'm treading water without swimming and soon I will drown and the sea will swallow me whole, leaving nothing left. I already feel the icy grips of the unforgiving depths.

The moon is bright as it shines through the glass-paned windows. The slightest hint of frost creeping onto the clear surface draws my attention to how cold it is. It is not inside. It is outside as well.

I stop by the window and  _touch—feel—grasp_ the chill of the night air that is seeping in through the glass. I drop my hand and a ghost of my fingers remain. I watch as they slowly fade.

I will be like those, a ghost of my original form. I need to  _move_ . I need to  _fight_ . I need a purpose.

“If you stay out here, you'll get sick.” I had left him sleeping. Had I woken him? I turn to face him and see him leaning against the wall.

“I doubt it,” I reply. “I'm _fever-hot_ , remember?”

Kanda is silent, arms across his bare chest. I shift from foot to foot. I need to keep walking. If I don't, I'll be swallowed up, and only a  _ghost—shell—memory_ of what I really was.

“You need to calm down,” he says to me. His voice was _low—hushed—murmured_ and I wonder why. _Why are you so quiet? Why are you whispering? I can't hear you through the rushing of the water. Help. Help._

“I'm calm.” My hands shake, to show just how calm I'm _not_. I move my hands behind my back for a moment, holding them tightly. The _shaking—trembling—tremors_ stop after a moment as I hold them in a crushing grip that I am sure Kanda has noticed, then I let my hands fall to my sides. _I'm going to drown if I stand still. I can't hear anything except the water. Help._

I turn away and start walking down the hall once more.

“You're going to hurt yourself,” he says and before I can reply I feel a hand on my arm and I am turned around roughly. He is close. So close. I can feel his breath _ghost—caress—sweep_ across my face. _Can't you hear it? The water's going to swallow me whole. Save me. Help me. I can't hear you, the ocean's too loud._

“No I won't,” I say, stubbornly.

Kanda's grip tightens on my arm and he shoves me against the wall. He can be so rough sometimes, even when he doesn't mean to be. I know he doesn't mean to be. It just happens. I let out a gasp of air, eyes closing swiftly. “Look at your feet,” his growl scares me enough that I comply.

I haven't felt my feet for some time now. They had gone numb a while back. And so I had not noticed. But they are _bruised—cut—bloody_ from wandering. I stare. And _stare_. I can not feel them.

_The water is nearly here...the tide is coming. I need to walk. I need to run. I need to leave before the tide comes and sweeps me up and swallows me whole. Why can't you understand that? Help. Help._

My feet are a bloody mass of abused flesh and shivering skin, tinted blue in the light and the cold. I stare.

He is speaking to me.  _Don't you understand? I can't hear you. I can't. Help._ I can't hear him any longer. It is swallowing me up as I stare at the damage I have done to my own body without even noticing. There is a bloody trail from where I have walked.  _That's how he found me of course..._

I feel hands on my shoulders. On my face.  _The icy caresses of the foamy water brushes my hurt feet. It is drawing me in. It will swallow me whole. I want this now. It is so comforting. I can't feel anything...let me drift in this place. Help. Help. Save—_

His hand is strong and harsh and unforgiving as it comes across my face. The _cry—howl—demand_ that escapes my lips is filled with annoyance and confusion. I drag myself off the ground, off the spots of blood left by my ruined feet, to face him, my lover, my beloved, my _Kanda_.

“What was that for?”

“It worked, didn't it?” he snaps and I stare. His gaze is like a storm during the night. It is strong and fierce and holding strong. He is right. I had nearly given up. I glance around, shaking slightly from the cold; from the water that nearly swallowed me whole; from the pain my bloody feet is now giving me.

_The water is still there. It haunts me. It creeps around my feet. The salt creeps into my wounds and bites down._ I whimper before I can stop myself and bite my lip.

“Come,” he says.

I look out at the moon. I imagine it pulling the ocean back and forth,  _comes-and-goes_ . The tide will come once more, I am sure of this as I follow that silent figure back passed all of the crimson droplets of liquid, back to the room. My  _prison—cage—barred room_ .

He forces me to sit and I stare out of the window. I wince and grip the sheets with tight fists as he cleans the mess of desecrated tissue. My feet soak in a small tub of warm water and I think of the tide that will come again.  _It will swallow me up. It will. I'm scared. I don't want to drown. I need to keep walking!_

“Don't do that,” he says and I look down at him. He is kneeling before me. “I know you need to keep moving. I understand. So stop being an idiot. You don't have to _walk_ to keep moving.”

I stop. I think.  _The waves tug at my mind and whisper 'you must walk, you must fight, you must run'._ “I'm a weapon.”

“So am I. But what else are we?”

My gaze is blank.  _The icy foam of the ocean's cruel depths seems to be calling to me. It calls me by name. It will eat me if I don't move._ He moves up and cups my chilled face with rough, worn hands and presses his lips against mine.

“We're human.”


End file.
